


letting go and coming home

by dreamerfound



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crowley has scales sometimes (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Domestic, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, Just a touch of smut, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, Pining, Podfic Welcome, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 16:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20449898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamerfound/pseuds/dreamerfound
Summary: It's been several months since the apocalypse-that-wasn’t and Crowley has been spending much of his time sleeping at the bookshop. Aziraphale yearning to move their friendship towards something more is a bit dismayed by this, but he has a plan.Or... The one in which an angel manipulates a witch into letting him and his demon friend housesit while she’s away, so he can propel their relationship forward.





	letting go and coming home

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to Corvidian for the beta read, hand-holding, and encouragement. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> This was written for the dreamwidth community's story_works Harlequin Big Bang

_______________ 

Crowley glared at Aziraphale before getting out of the Bentley. Why the angel had insisted on dragging him to some human gathering out in Tadfield, was beyond him. Hadn’t they spent enough time in that village during the apocalypse-that-wasn’t? It hadn’t been that long ago. Still, he wasn’t about to let him go alone. Someone had to keep an eye on the idiot. 

Crowley picked up the case of wine the angel insisted on bringing along. "I don't see why we had to bring the wine, it's their party, isn’t it? Shouldn't they be providing the refreshments?" 

"It's traditional to bring something to events like these.” Aziraphale adjusted his bowtie. 

Crowley restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Sometimes Aziraphale's adherence to tradition was exhausting, but it did seem to bring him a degree of comfort. He scrutinized the angel for a moment, he was smiling, obviously pleased with himself about something. Crowley sighed. 

"Come on dear, I see Anathema over there with young Mr. Pulsifer."

Crowley grumbled his hello to the two humans, handed the man the case of wine and took one of the bottles out for himself. "I'll be over there with the chairs." 

He moved over to where there were several wooden folding chairs and no one in them. Perfect. He could sit here by himself, drink his wine, and wait for it to be time to leave. Slouching down in one of the chairs, he got started on the wine. It was all going rather well until a voice startled him out of his reverie.

"I remember you." 

Crowley looked at the small human girl currently staring at him. He vaguely remembered her from the airbase. One of Adam's friends. The bold one. "Do you really, now?”

"You were there when the world almost ended." She sounded like she was accusing him of something, she probably was.

"Hard to forget." He’d had nightmares about it, the airbase and the burning bookshop. Thank Someone, they’d gotten less frequent as the months wore on.

She sat down in one of the chairs and leaned forward. She looked like she was trying to see his eyes through his sunglasses. "You had funny eyes."

He glared at her from behind the safety of his dark glasses and suppressed the urge to hiss. It was natural for children to be curious, he reminded himself. It wasn't her fault that he was still, after all this time, sensitive about certain things. 

"Can I see them?" She leaned closer.

He thought about declining her request, but then he figured showing her would probably scare her off and then he’d be left blissfully alone. So he slid off his sunglasses and looked the girl directly in the eyes.

Her face lit up with excitement. ”That's so awesome! They're like a snake's eyes."

"That they are." Crowley had no idea what to do with this child's strange enthusiasm.

"Are you an actual snake?" She said it as if she wanted him to be, like it was a good thing.

“Yes, no.” He shook his head and paused. “I’m a demon, but I can turn into a snake." 

"Really? Can I see?"

"What? No. Shouldn't you be off playing with your friends?"

"They’re being boring. How big of a snake are you?"

"However big I want to be.” Crowley took a swig of wine and waved his arms around. “I’m a demon, I'm not bound by human physics.”

"What about him?" The girl pointed to where Aziraphale had stationed himself over by the buffet. That was his angel, homing in on the food wherever they went.

"He's an angel, he doesn't turn into a snake."

The child seemed disappointed by that bit of news. “How does one become an angel?” She asked. 

Crowley had another swallow of wine. “Angels are made.” He held the bottle up to the light, not a lot left. Probably should have snagged another bottle.

“Who made them?” 

"God." Yeah, he definitely needed another bottle.

"What about demons, who made them?”

He really didn’t want to have this conversation, but he didn’t want to punish the child for asking questions. Curiosity should be rewarded not suppressed. "Fallen angels." He downed the rest of the wine.

"So, that means you were an angel once?”

"A very long time ago." He barely remembered what it felt like to be an angel. He never forgot what falling felt like though, that feeling would be burned into him for eternity.

The girl considered his words for a moment. "I think being a giant snake is probably better than being an angel."

“Why is that?” She really was an amusing child, wasn’t she?

"Being an angel seems boring."

“Depends on the angel.” Crowley looked over and caught a glimpse of Aziraphale stacking various foodstuffs onto a plate and smiled. 

_______________ 

Aziraphale had begun to second-guess his plan when Crowley went off to sulk with a bottle of wine. He really should have expected it, at least he hadn’t taken the entire case with him. Aziraphale had hoped he’d be a bit more sociable. The demon had been rather languorous as of late, ever since the failed Armageddon and their subsequent exile. It had irked him. They were finally on their own together and nothing significant had happened.

Aziraphale had been waiting for something -- he wasn't sure what exactly, possibly a sign of some sort. He was fairly certain that Crowley had feelings for him, feelings that went beyond what humans classified as friendship. He had felt it when they had taken on each other's forms, just a momentary flash, but it was enough for him to know. He’d suspected it in earlier days, of course, but back then he tried not to give much thought to such forbidden notions.

He had expected Crowley to make a move of some sort, to take action. To do something; anything that would propel them towards something more. Instead, he’d spent most of his time since the apocalypse-that-wasn’t, lounging on the sofa in the bookshop’s back room. 

Aziraphale worried that if something didn't happen soon, the two of them would go their separate ways and not see each other for decades or even longer. He couldn’t have that, not again. Not now, not after everything they’d been through. Which was why he needed a plan. He didn’t want to force the matter, but maybe if things were set up in precisely the right way events would unfold naturally. So, while Aziraphale wasn’t happy about it, he let Crowley go off and sulk without comment while he made small talk with the hosts. 

"I'm so glad you could come, thank you for the wine," Anathema said. She looked happy. She had come to visit him in his bookshop not long after the world hadn’t ended, and they’d been corresponding ever since. She was an exceptional letter writer, a rarity in this day and age.

"My pleasure, dear. It was so lovely of you to invite us. It's not often we socialize with humans, especially not together." Anathema knew what they were, they’d had several invigorating discussions about it already.

"Er...what?" Newton asked, suddenly looking even more pale than usual.

Anathema placed a hand on her boyfriend’s arm. Aziraphale felt a momentary pang of envy at that simple gesture of spontaneous intimacy, something he’d been longing for with a certain demon for a very long time. 

"Aziraphale is an angel, I'm sure I mentioned it earlier,” Anathema said.

"I didn't think you meant that literally." Newton turned and looked over at Crowley. "Is he an angel too?" 

Aziraphale laughed awkwardly. ”Well, he was one once, but that was a very long time ago. These days he's a demon." 

"Oh, that's nice. I'm going to go have a drink now." Newton gave Anathema a quick kiss on the cheek and walked off with the case of wine he was still holding.

"He's still having some difficulty with the more supernatural elements of existence,” Anathema explained.

Aziraphale ran his fingers along the bottom edge of his waistcoat. ”Understandable."

They made pleasant small talk for several minutes more before Aziraphale brought up the couple's impending voyage. She’d written of it in one of her most recent missives. “You mentioned that you were going back to America?”

"Yes, I need to get back to see my family and wrap a few things up before I return here to stay.” She lowered her voice and leaned a little closer. “It’s strange, I rented this cottage at the beginning of it all, you know? Yet, when I went to tell them I was going home and wouldn't need it any longer they told me I owned it. Which is impossible of course."

Aziraphale straightened his bowtie. ”Interesting, I'm assuming there’s paperwork.”

"Yes, and it all shows that I now own Jasmine Cottage."

"Well, a lot of strange things happened recently, with Armageddon and all.” Aziraphale brushed a bit of dust off his coat. “It's reasonable to assume it must have something to do with all that business." 

“That makes as much sense as anything. It does make leaving a little more complicated now. I'm going to need to have someone keep an eye on the place. Water the plants, bring in the mail, that sort of thing."

“I’m sure that won’t be too challenging to find,” Aziraphale said.

Anathema smiled as if she suspected something. "Would you know anyone who might want to housesit? They wouldn't have to stay the whole time, just check on things periodically and make sure the plants get water, that sort of thing."

"How long will you be gone?" 

"Six weeks if everything goes well."

“Not so long in the grand scheme of things. I shouldn’t think it’d be difficult to find someone or someones, to watch the place for you. Maybe they could stay the whole six weeks, make a bit of a holiday of it?" 

Anathema smiled. “That seems reasonable."

"Then I know just the right people." Aziraphale smiled, feeling very proud of himself.

"You know, I had the feeling that you would.”

_______________ 

Crowley finished off his bottle of wine and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. The kid hadn’t gone away yet. 

“That’s a lot of wine for one person.” The girl remarked.

“Demonic metabolism” he explained. 

He thought about getting up to grab more wine, but had a better idea. “Hey you, what’s your name?”

“I’m Pepper.” She held her hand out for him to shake. “What should I call you?” 

“Crowley” He shook her hand. “How would you like to do me a fun little favour?” 

She eyed him shrewdly. “What sort of favour?”

“Well, you see here?” He turned the empty bottle upside down. “I seem to be out of wine, and I know for a fact that there are several more bottles ripe for the taking just over there.” He pointed over to where Newt was sitting on the case he’d brought.

“Why don’t you get up and get some more?” Pepper asked.

“Because then I’d have to talk to people, and I don’t want to talk to people.”

“Isn’t that stealing?” 

“Can’t be stealing, it’s my wine, I brought it here.” Technically it was Aziraphale’s wine, but that line of argument seemed to work. Fifteen minutes later she returned with two bottles and Adam Young. 

“No one’s really drinking,” she said as she handed over the wine.

“Just you and Newt,” added Adam.

Crowley looked around. It wasn’t a large gathering. There was the witch, her boyfriend, the children, the angel and him. Was that odd? “Not a lot of people here,” he said.

Pepper shrugged. 

“I don’t think Anathema knows a lot of people here, she’s from America you know,” Adam said. 

Crowley nodded. He let the two children entertain him until finally, Aziraphale came over and let him know it was time to go. They said their good-byes and headed to the Bentley. They were halfway home when Aziraphale sprung his plan on him.

"Why?" Crowley now regretted sobering up before getting behind the wheel.

"The place needs looking after, the plants need to be watered."

"Why us?" He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

"It's a nice thing to do, I volunteered." 

"Why me?"

"You're better with plants than I am."

Crowley couldn't argue with that. Aziraphale had been a rubbish gardener. It was damn suspicious though, the angel was definitely up to something. "For how long?"

"Not long, six weeks. It will be over before you know it."

Six bloody weeks? ”Fine. Whatever."

"Oh good." Aziraphale wiggled in his seat. Oh yeah, the angel was definitely up to something.

Three days later Aziraphale was stuffing three suitcases (tartan print of course) into Crowley’s Bentley and the two of them were on their way to Tadfield, yet again. Why the angel needed three suitcases of anything, he had no idea. Crowley hadn't even packed one. Judging by their weight, he probably packed books. The angel practically vibrated the entire trip to the cottage.

The witch greeted them at the door, her boyfriend already in the car. Someone was either in a hurry to leave, or easily frightened by supernatural entities, possibly both. He’d heard airports were a nightmare these days, sadly he couldn’t take credit for that one. Crowley looked up at the space above the door, hadn’t there been a horseshoe? There wasn't anything there now. He glanced over at Aziraphale. The angel was listening to the human drone on about the cottage and their upcoming journey. Boring stuff. 

Anathema led them through the cottage. Besides all the greenery outside, there were plenty of plants inside, mostly herbs of some sort, as far as he could tell. Witch stuff, most likely. None of them were exactly thriving, he could probably do something about that. Was that really why he was there? To take care of the greenery? It seemed so mundane. Didn't the woman have human friends to water her plants? When had she and the angel formed this odd alliance? They seemed to be on more familiar terms than just having survived the apocalypse together should have merited. 

How had Crowley not noticed this friendship? Hadn't he and the angel been spending most of their time together? He hardly even went back to his flat these days. Had he been sleeping through things again? He didn’t think he was trying to avoid things. Almost losing Aziraphale had taken more of a toll on him than he had expected. He had a lot of feelings to filter through and he just hadn’t been ready. It was possible that he had been spending most of their time together asleep. Sleep was easy. He looked around the cluttered cottage. He could always sleep here, if it came to that.

_______________ 

Once Anathema and Newton were gone, Aziraphale had another look around the place. It really was a lovely space, cozy and romantic. He just knew everything was going to work out.

Crowley sighed and flopped down on the sofa. Aziraphale looked down at him and frowned. Why did he have to be so difficult? No, he was not going to let him sleep their time together here away. He was putting his foot down. “Up, we’re going out.”

Crowley groaned. “We just got here, angel.” 

“After the ride here, my legs could do with a bit of a stretch. Besides I’d like to explore the village a bit.” It wasn’t a lie exactly, it just wasn’t the whole truth.

“You’ve been here before, we both have.”

“It was Armageddon, there was a lot going on. I don’t think either of us had a proper look round.” Aziraphale pulled his waistcoat straight.

“Fine.” Crowley dragged himself up from the sofa. “Let’s go for a walk.” 

Aziraphale looked the demon up and down and smiled. He was stunning, even when he was in a mood. Especially so, possibly. He longed to reach out and drift his fingers along the demon’s jawline -- down his neck and -- he tugged his bowtie straight and headed out the door.

It was a lovely afternoon, the weather perfectly spring-like, with just a hint of impending summer in the air. They walked and talked. Well, Aziraphale talked and Crowley interjected intermittently. Aziraphale pointed out various flora growing along the lane, hoping to pique the demon’s interest. 

“You’re not expecting me to take care of all the plants in the village, are you?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale’s steps faltered as an image of Crowley terrorizing all the plants in the village flashed through his mind. What a frightening thought. “Oh, no. Just the ones at the cottage.” 

“Right. The inside plants or am I to tend the ones out in the garden too?”

“Er, yes? Whatever you think is best, dear.”

They strolled down the lane together and Aziraphale felt the temptation to take Crowley’s hand in his. He used to think that this manner of temptation originated from Crowley, that it was something the demon was actively doing to him. He was a demon after all and that’s what demons did, they tempted. It took the angel quite some time to realize that it was his own feelings about Crowley that caused it. At first, Aziraphale had seen it as a flaw, a weakness. He knew better now. Loving Crowley could never be a weakness.

The village was charming. There weren’t a lot of shops, but he did spot a darling little bakery along the way. Crowley procured for him an assortment of treats and Aziraphale refrained from calling him nice. Though it had been such a nice gesture, and the thought of Crowley pushing him against some fence or the side of a building was very alluring. Alas, they were out in public, and he did still have standards. 

Other than the birds singing, it was mostly quiet on the walk back to the cottage, until the man with the dog stopped them. “R.P. Tyler, neighborhood watch,” the human said. 

Aziraphale stopped and smiled. It couldn’t hurt to be polite, even though something in the man’s tone indicated they weren’t exactly welcome. “Lovely to meet you, I’m Aziraphale and this is my - er - friend, Anthony J. Crowley.” He looked over to Crowley and was momentarily distracted by his lips. 

The human cleared his throat. “I say, you look familiar, do I know you?” The words were directed toward the demon. Crowley made a face, gave a little shrug and shook his head, all at the same time. The dog barked.

“We’re staying at Jasmine Cottage.” Aziraphale offered. 

“Oh, did the American girl finally move on?” He sounded as if he rather hoped that she had.

“Not permanently, she's taken her beau back to visit her family. We’re watching the cottage while they’re gone.”

“I see.” R.P. Tyler said, reproach obvious in his voice. What exactly the man disapproved of Aziraphale wasn’t sure, possibly everything. 

Aziraphale was in the middle of telling the man about his bookshop and how he thought getting out of the city for a bit might be a nice change of pace, when he noticed that time had stopped.

He sighed and turned to look at Crowley. “That was rude.” 

“Really don’t see why he needs our life story, angel.”

“We’re going to living here for a while, it doesn’t hurt to be friendly.”

“It hurts me,” Crowley said under his breath. “Come on angel, lets head back to the cottage.”

He had to remind Crowley to start time back up once they got a far enough distance away from the human and his dog. They stopped at the market on the way back to purchase some provisions. Crowley grumbled a bit more, but overall it was a delightful walk. Spring was beginning to bleed into summer once again and he even spotted the perfect place for a picnic.

_______________ 

Crowley made his escape upstairs, changing into a set of black silk pyjamas along the way. When he turned around not only had Aziraphale followed him into the bedroom, but he’d also changed into sleepwear. Tartan flannel, of course.

"I'm going to sleep, angel."

“What a lovely coincidence, so am I.”

“You don't sleep."

Aziraphale smiled. ”I thought I might give it a whirl.”

"There's only one bed." Crowley looked at the bed, it wasn’t a very big, not for sleeping two. He supposed he could miracle it a bit bigger, but not without the angel noticing. 

"It seems to have worked just fine for Anathema and Newton." The angel fidgeted with the edge of his pyjama top.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale a moment. Did he even know what he was saying? What he was suggesting? The witch and her boyfriend were a couple - a romantic couple. He couldn’t mean -- could he? Was that what this whole trip was about?

Crowley gave up and got into the bed. "Fine, whatever, just don't hog the covers." He slipped his sunglasses off and tossed them on the table by the bed. "Do you even know how to sleep?"

"I think I remember, I have indulged a time or two, I’ll have you know.” Aziraphale climbed into bed next to him and pulled the covers over them both. 

Crowley wondered if the angel was referring to sleep in the most literal sense, or if he was trying to tell him that he’d indulged in other bedroom activities, and if so, with whom? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He knew some demons did that sort of thing, but he never really got the appeal, that was until he met Aziraphale. The angel made all sorts of things that hadn’t previously mattered seem worth investigating. 

Crowley snapped his fingers and the lights went out. Closing his eyes, he tried to get comfortable. Warmth radiated off the angel. Crowley had run on the cool side ever since he fell. He wasn’t sure if it was a demon thing, a snake thing, or just a him thing. He’d asked Hastur about it once, but it hadn’t gone over very well. He never bothered asking anyone else. He moved a little closer to Aziraphale and pretended it didn’t mean anything.

He could feel every little wiggle the angel made. It was nerve-racking. He reached out to still him and ended up with his hand firmly planted on Aziraphale’s thigh. Well, he’d thought that move through, hadn’t he? Neither of them moved a muscle or said a word. A clock ticked somewhere and he took a breath.

Crowley had wanted Aziraphale in this way for a very long time, and had loved him for even longer. He was pretty sure the angel knew. After six thousand years and _you go too fast for me_, how could it have been a secret? But there’s a difference between wanting something and being ready for it. He’d been tossed out and abandoned by both Heaven and Hell. If Aziraphale rejected him now, what would he have left? 

So, yeah, in the nine months since the apocalypse-that-wasn’t he may have spent more time sleeping than was strictly necessary, even with the nightmares that had plagued him in the beginning. Crowley wasn’t completely unaware that he’d been avoiding his little corner of reality. The two of them still went out for dinner together and most of the time Crowley slept at the bookshop so he could be close to his angel, but he’d kept things between them at a standstill for a reason, and that reason was fear.

Even if everything went well and Aziraphale didn’t push him away, there was still the little issue of how the two of them had displeased both Heaven and Hell. Crowley didn’t think they’d try and come after them again any time soon, but he didn’t actually know either. He couldn’t be sure. There was even this one time in St James’s Park when he thought he saw Beelzebub and Gabriel sitting on a bench together holding hands, which had to have been a hallucination, because in what universe would that happen? Still, the threat existed. What if he and Aziraphale found their happiness together only to have it ripped away from them? Crowley wasn’t sure that he could lose Aziraphale again, but here he was with his hand on the angel’s warm thigh and a decision to make. 

He could feel the waves of disappointment coming from Aziraphale the moment he moved his hand away. Sliding in closer he wrapped himself around him, his head coming to rest on his chest. “Goodnight, angel.” Crowley fell asleep enclosed in warm arms; surrounded by feelings of overwhelming love.

_______________

The sun streamed through the window, highlighting the light dusting of freckles on the demon’s sleeping face. He looked peaceful; hair curled down his neck, just barely touching his shoulders. Aziraphale combed his fingers through the soft flame-coloured tresses. He liked it long like this. 

He never expected to fall asleep. When Crowley pulled his hand away, Aziraphale thought all had been lost, that he had failed. Then the demon had wrapped his long limbs round him and fallen asleep with his head on his chest. He’d felt such a profound sense of relief that unconsciousness came quickly and easily, though sleep had never been his goal, he’d only wanted an excuse to be close to Crowley. 

Aziraphale stilled when he felt the demon shift slightly. Crowley’s eyes opened, and he smiled. “Morning.” His voice was soft and thick with sleep.

“Good morning, dear.” Aziraphale slid his hand under Crowley’s pyjama top, brushing what felt like a smattering of scales along his spine. He traced his fingers along the constellation of textures, enjoying the contrasting sensation of skin and scales. “Did you sleep well?” Aziraphale murmured. 

Crowley drifted kisses along Aziraphale’s neck and hummed a soft sound of contentment against his skin. The angel squirmed, it felt so good. Was it possible he still slept, this merely a dream? If so, did he even want to wake? Crowley pushed himself up and looked at Aziraphale with those gorgeous amber eyes he could never get enough of. He really wished he wouldn’t wear the sunglasses so much, especially when it was just the two of them. 

The demon smiled before dipping down to take the angel’s bottom lip gently between his teeth. Intoxicating. Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed and then lips were pressing down on his and everything felt right. 

With both hands under Crowley’s clothing, Aziraphale led further explorations of skin and scales. Serpentine scale eruptions led down the sides of the demon’s spine, converging at his tailbone. Aziraphale slid fingers beneath Crowley’s waistband and felt a small crop of scales sprinkled along his hips. He didn’t remember scales as part of the demon’s vessel back when they had switched, he thought about voicing the question out loud but then Crowley pressed his hard length against Aziraphale’s own hardening member, and the question went unasked and soon forgotten. 

He dug his fingernails into Crowley’s hips, and arched his back, pressing them together even more. Heat flooded Aziraphale’s body and he wished that no barriers stood between them. A moment later they were both naked. Crowley hummed in his mouth before breaking the kiss. “I don’t remember getting naked.”

Aziraphale felt his cheeks get hot. “Sorry, got a bit carried away.” He had rather looked forward to undressing Crowley the old fashioned way, but that would have to wait for future explorations.

“Not complaining, angel.” 

Crowley’s mouth was on his again, tongue darting in, feeling more forked than Aziraphale had previously noticed. Skin and scales dragged against his own soft flesh, making everything feel new. It felt like letting go. It seemed like coming home. 

Crowley broke the kiss and Aziraphale whimpered at the loss. The demon smiled and gave his lip a nibble as he reached down and gripped their hard lengths in his hand, long fingers wrapping around and stroking them both. Aziraphale glanced down at the intoxicating scene. Well, they were certainly fraternizing now, weren’t they? It was an anxious thought, from the treacherous part of his mind that still worried about what his former employers might think. Crowley’s mouth moved to the angel’s neck, biting and sucking along sensitive skin and those thoughts vanished. 

It was almost too much. Aziraphale felt overwhelmed by myriad sensations. Slick friction, soft caresses and the gentle sting of teeth on flesh. He could feel the blood pumping beneath his skin. Everything felt hot and tight. He found himself building to an edge he wasn’t exactly sure how to get over. He had masturbated before, but this was different, with Crowley it was so much more.

Just when Aziraphale thought he couldn’t take any more, he felt Crowley’s body go taut above him, rhythm faltering as his orgasm convulsed through him. Everything went dark. Moments later, brightness sparked liked stars in the night sky. Aziraphale’s orgasm poured through him and he cried out, “Crowley.” Time stood still and he could feel his divine essence lick at the borders of his vessel, flowing outward into Crowley’s to mix with his true self. Aziraphale had never felt anything like it and it scared him.

Slowly Aziraphale once again became aware of his body. Crowley was collapsed on top of him, heavy and warm and trembling very slightly. He kissed his shoulder and trailed his fingers along the scales at the base of his spine. After a little while, Crowley nuzzled his neck for a moment before rolling off him. The demon snapped his fingers, clearing away the stickiness between them. Aziraphale rolled to face him and adjusted the blankets so they were both underneath.

_______________ 

In his defense, he thought he was still dreaming when he slid up Aziraphale’s sleep softened form and started kissing him. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, he’d had many a dream over the millennia, that started out that way. He’d felt bold in the moment, letting himself believe it wasn’t entirely real, but maybe that was a lie. Everything he’d done, he’d wanted to do, except maybe that bit where their souls (or whatever passed for a soul in a demon) intermingled. That had been completely and utterly unexpected. Un-ex-fucking-spected. It shouldn’t have been possible, he was a demon, for Somebody’s sake. 

Aziraphale and him mixing on that level was like, well, it should have been like mixing holy water and hellfire, but it hadn’t been. It’d been fine, more than fine, it had been divine. That was the most appropriate word for it and it scared the fuck out of him, well, not literally. He was ready to have another go, if the angel was up for it. The angel was of course up for it; the hedonistic bastard, damn the things he could do with his mouth. 

Eventually, they got out of bed, dressed for the day, and converged in the kitchen. 

"I was thinking a picnic would be nice," Aziraphale said.

Crowley stared at the angel, momentarily distracted by the love bite peeking out from under his collar. Then he registered his words and flashed back to several decades earlier, the night Aziraphale had shown up in his car and given him the thermos of holy water. He'd mentioned a picnic then, as some sort of hypothetical someday thing. They'd already done the Ritz, on multiple occasions. They still had yet to go on a picnic together. He liked the idea, though he wasn't about to admit it out loud. 

"Do we even have any picnic food?" They’d gone to the market the day before but they hadn’t picked up much, not enough for a picnic. 

"We should, Miss Device assured me that she stocked the pantry before she left. She seemed rather enthusiastic about the picnic idea when I told her. I do believe she's rooting for us."

"Rooting for us?" The fuck?

Aziraphale rummaged through the refrigerator, making little noises of approval as he lifted the covers off various containers. "As a couple, of course.”

"A couple?" Crowley failed to keep the wobble out of his voice as doubt flooded through him. 

"Are you alright, my dear?" 

He wasn’t, he was a mess. Crowley knew he could never live up to whatever romantic ideal Aziraphale carried around in his head. 

"Alright? Yup." Nope. He really wasn't. He was panicking and he was one hundred percent sure that whatever he did, he was going to disappoint his angel. How could he not? He was a complete disappointment. He hadn't been a good enough angel, he'd definitely been a rubbish demon and he was certainly going to be a lousy - boyfriend? “Ngk.”

"Good. Now help me find a basket to put all this in, oh and a blanket for us to sit on." The angel sounded completely unfazed.

Aziraphale piled up a multitude of colourful containers onto the counter. He seemed so stupidly calm. How was he so calm? 

He needed to get himself together before he made a complete idiot of himself. "So, we're doing this picnic thing now?" he said very slow and casual-like. Probably.

"I don't see why not. No time like the present, as they say."

Crowley nodded and went in search of basket and blanket. It was fine. He was fine. He'd known things were moving in this direction, maybe not this fast, but still moving. Hadn't they just spent the morning in bed together doing things that angels and demons didn’t normally do with each other, or at all?

Crowley found a basket suitable for a picnic and a big ugly floral monstrosity of a blanket that he’d be happy to sacrifice to the elements, and headed back to the kitchen where the angel was packing biscuits into a tartan tin. His face lit up when he turned and saw Crowley.

"There you are, dear. Why don't you come help me pack all this into that lovely basket you found?”

"Not sure if that's all going to fit, angel. Maybe I should have found a bigger basket." Crowley brushed his finger along the love bite on the angel’s neck, he liked seeing it, knowing that he marked him. He smiled.

"Oh hush, it will be fine.” Aziraphale gave him a quick kiss and grabbed his coat. “We are going to have a marvelous time, just you wait.”

_______________

Good gracious, he'd frightened the dear boy, hadn't he? Aziraphale could tell that Crowley was feeling a bit discombobulated. He hid it well, but they had known each other a long time and after that morning...well, it was difficult not to notice.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was feeling good, powerful even. Sex, it turned out was quite enjoyable, particularly with a suitable partner. So many sensations, so much pleasure. It had left him feeling like he’d finally found where he belonged and where he belonged was with Crowley.

He found the place he’d spotted on their walk the day before and set the basket down. Crowley spread out the lovely blanket he’d found and the two of them arranged the food and sat down. The demon seemed a tad gruff and ill at ease, but the food was scrumptious and the weather, accommodating. He rejoiced in the ability to be out and about in public with his love without the worry of being caught, even if the demon wasn't currently in the best of moods. Aziraphale loved Crowley in all his moods, even the less agreeable ones.

An hour into the picnic Adam showed up with his friends in tow. They were playing some sort of complicated game that Aziraphale didn't exactly understand but found quite endearing nonetheless. He invited them to join the picnic, they ate their fill of food, and listened politely to his stories. Many questions were asked, as was often the case when children were present, and Crowley answered every single one with both patience and kindness. 

When afternoon starting tipping into evening, the children made their way home and he and Crowley settled in to watch the sunset together. 

"Sorry, you didn't get your whole romantic picnic thing, angel," Crowley said.

"Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I thought it turned out to be quite the romantic outing, didn’t you?” Aziraphale inched his hand closer to Crowley’s until their fingers were just barely touching. 

"Even with the kids crashing the thing?" The demon slid his hand over so that it covered Aziraphale’s completely. 

"The children were an unexpected addition, true, but they were quite joyful and you seemed to have fun with them. I like seeing you enjoy yourself."

"I wasn't."

"You were, and I think it's wonderful." He brought the demon’s hand to his lips and let a kiss linger there a moment.

"Ssshut up." Crowley’s voice was a soft hiss.

Aziraphale leaned closer and gave Crowley a kiss on the mouth. "Alright, darling. Did you want to head back to the cottage?" It had gotten dark.

"Nah, I thought maybe we could watch the stars for a while." He sounded hopeful.

"I'd like that," Aziraphale said. They lay down on the blanket and looked up at the stars, fingers entwined. He knew that Crowley had a hand in their creation. He’d spoken a little about it, long ago. It was strange to think about, the life he’d had before he fell. Before they’d met.

“Crowley?” 

“Yeah, angel?”

“I was wondering something, from earlier.” Aziraphale bit his lip. He wasn’t exactly sure how to ask what he wanted to ask. 

“What’s that?”

“Well, the scales, your scales. I don’t remember them from before, when we exchanged vessels.” 

Crowley started to pull his hand away but Aziraphale wouldn’t let him go and after a moment the demon stopped trying. “Er -- yeah. They come out more when I’m relaxed, I guess. I don’t know. It’s not like any of this came with a manual or anything.” The demon shrugged. “I can make them go away, mostly, if they bother you or something...” Crowley’s words drifted off.

“No, oh no, my love. They don’t bother me at all. In fact, I think they’re quite beautiful.”

“They’re not.”

“They are, I love the way they feel against my skin, the way they shine in the sunlight. You’re beautiful Crowley, all of you.”

“Shut up.” His words were harsh, but his voice was gentle. 

On the way home, Crowley was quiet and Aziraphale fretted. He’d thought things had gone well, but he was beginning to have his doubts.

"Are you alright, darling?"

Crowley slowed his pace. "Fine, angel." He didn't sound fine.

"Are you sure?" Aziraphale pressed.

"It's just - I like this. I like us, together. But I can't be some romantic hero from one of those books you're always reading."

"I'm not always reading those." Aziraphale read a lot of books, romance novels made up only a small percentage of his reading material.

"You know what I mean. I'm just not that guy or whatever. I'm never going to be either.”

"Oh, my dear boy, you already are. You have been for a very long time." Aziraphale thought back to Paris during the Revolution, and London in 1941. There had been other times the demon had come to his rescue too. Crowley was more the hero than he was willing to admit.

Crowley stopped and sputtered. "m' not"

Aziraphale put the basket down and slid Crowley's glasses off. He disappeared them into one of his own pockets, and gently placed his hands along the sides of his face. "You are everything, my love." 

Crowley made a noise of protest and pulled away. Aziraphale frowned but let him go. "I guess we should continue on our way, getting late and all." He straightened his waistcoat and pushed his hurt feelings aside.

The demon retrieved his glasses from Aziraphale's pocket and gave him a quick kiss before slipping them back on and taking his hand in his.

_______________

Crowley wasn't sure what he expected when they returned to the cottage. He couldn't help but feel that he’d fucked up in some way. Aziraphale had been sweet, loving and just plain wonderful and in turn, he’d pushed him away and told him to shut up. Stupid. He was stupid and idiotic and he hadn’t at all been surprised when Aziraphale told him he was going to spend the night reading. When the angel dressed in pyjamas and got into bed with his book, Crowley was confused. "You're coming to bed?"

"Of course I'm coming to bed. Unless you think my reading will keep you up. I can read downstairs if you’d rather.”

"No," Crowley said too quickly. "It's fine, you won't keep me up." He changed and got under the covers. Sleep came easily as he curled up next to his angel.

The days and nights flowed by. Postcards came from America; book girl and her boyfriend seemed to be having a good trip, if they were to be believed. Crowley kept the plants alive in-between making sure the shops periodically delivered various confectionary delights to please his angel. 

Some nights they both slept, some only Crowley did and on others, they stayed up exploring the pleasurable things they could do with their corporeal forms. They didn’t talk about the other thing. The way their non-corporeal forms joined in on the action.

Twice a week they went into the city so Crowley could water his own plants and Aziraphale could check on his bookshop, usually dining out someplace swanky before heading back to Tadfield. It was nice and oddly domestic. Almost too nice. Crowley couldn't help but wonder how long it could last. Surely the angel would grow weary of him eventually, right? Crowley knew he could be a bit much. He wouldn't blame Aziraphale if he decided he'd had enough of him. 

A month into their stay Crowley got up early, leaving Aziraphale asleep in the bed alone. He felt a little guilty about it, particularly since as far as he could tell, Aziraphale only slept for his sake. But he’d been feeling restless and the sun was up, so he headed downstairs. It was a nice little cottage. A bit stuffy and cramped for his tastes, but nice enough for a bit of a holiday. Aziraphale seemed to really like it.

While Crowley was busy ruminating, there was a knock on the door. He frowned and another knock came. He shrugged and opened it, not bothering to find out who was there first. Two children stood, waiting. "What?" He didn’t bother trying to hide his annoyance.

"Is Mr. Aziraphale around?" the one with the glasses asked. 

"Why?" Crowley wanted to know.

"Well, we were feeling sort of peckish and he always has something nice to nibble on." 

"He's still asleep." 

"Angels sleep?" the other boy asked. 

"If they want to, they do." Crowley stepped back and let the boys inside. What could it hurt?

"Do you sleep?" The bespectacled boy asked. What was his name? Wednesday? Wensley? Wensleydale! That was it.

"Frequently,” Crowley said, in fact, he wished that he was still sleeping now.

"But you don't have to, do you? Given that you're actually a demon,” Wensleydale said.

Crowley sighed. "No, don't have to. I like to, so I do, as often as I can. Sometimes for years."

"For years? That's impossible," said Wensleydale.

"He's a demon, I don't think impossible means the same thing for demons." the other boy said. 

Wensleydale seemed to think about that for a moment and then nodded. "So, do you have anything to eat?"

"Don't you have food at home?" Crowley asked. Both boys shrugged. Crowley shook his head and sighed. Hospitality wasn’t exactly demonic, but they were children.

"I'm sure there's something around here." Crowley rummaged through the cupboards and pulled out a tin of biscuits the angel hadn't gotten to yet. "Here, these should be alright." 

The boys helped themselves to the biscuits and Crowley sat down. He loathed to admit it, but he liked the children. He liked that they felt comfortable around him, even knowing what he was. These two had been a bit put off in the beginning when they had first learned about the whole demon thing, but once they'd been around him a bit more it had ceased to matter. It was -- nice.

"You should make breakfast for Mr. Aziraphale," Wensleydale said.

“What? He's sleeping." Crowley took one of the biscuits from the tin and sniffed it. Lavender? He shook his head and put it back.

"For when he wakes up, like a surprise. My mum likes that sort of thing." The other boy said. Crowley thought his name might be Brian. 

"Do I look like I cook?” 

"You could learn, there are loads of cooking films online. You could look them up on your mobile. What's his favorite food?" Brian said, sounding a little too enthusiastic. 

Crowley shrugged. Aziraphale was inclined toward most foods, but he did have his favorites. "Crepes." He handed his mobile phone over to Brian. His reward was being forced to watch seven different videos on how to make crepes. Each one, just a little bit different than the others. 

The kids helped him gather the ingredients and get started. It went about as disastrously as he had expected it to.

_______________ 

Aziraphale was startled to wake up alone. So far, on the nights they both slept, he was always the one to wake up first. He didn't exactly take to sleep easily. It was difficult to let himself drift off when there were so many books waiting to be read. He'd gotten rather worn out the night before though and he had found that having a nice sleep after an evening of energetic sex could be quite refreshing. 

Unfortunately, at some point, he had dreamt that he was back in heaven, and it hadn't been pleasant. He’d never given it much thought back before he'd been exiled, but once he'd been stationed on Earth, he had never felt quite right on his visits to Heaven. He felt off-center there, like he didn't belong. It was possible he'd always felt like that, but had ignored it; shoved it deep down where he pushed all his questions and doubts. It was odd. He knew he should feel sorrow over no longer being welcome there, but he didn't. He only felt relief. 

He found most other angels confusing. For beings that were supposed to be so filled with love, they could be remarkably cruel. He'd never known Sandalphon to perform any blessings. He’d only been about the smiting. Aziraphale had always known Gabriel to have a cruel streak, but he seemed to actually want the world destroyed. It didn’t make sense. How could an angel be so filled with hatred? Crowley was kinder and more loving than any of them. It had taken a while for Aziraphale to see it, but it was true. He felt mortified that he had ever thought the demon was incapable of love just because he was Fallen. 

After spending some time with his thoughts, Aziraphale became aware of voices drifting up from the kitchen. It sounded like some of the children had come for a visit. In the beginning, he had envisioned their stay at Jasmine Cottage as a romantic retreat for two. Their numerous encounters with the children had been unexpected. Yet, Crowley, while unlikely to admit it, seemed to adore them. He lit up whenever they were around. It was really quite lovely.

Determined to get in a little light reading before breakfast, Aziraphale picked up a book from the growing pile near the bed. The children seemed to prefer Crowley anyways and he was more than happy to allow them a bit of time together. It wasn't until he smelled something cooking that he bothered getting dressed. They hadn't actually cooked anything since they'd arrived at the cottage. He wasn’t aware that Crowley could cook.

The kitchen was in complete disarray. There was flour and who knew what else, all over the place. Wensleydale and Brian stood on either side of Crowley who appeared to be in the midst of some type of kitchen experiment.

"We're making crepes," Wensleydale said.

Aziraphale was momentarily overwhelmed by how adorable the demon looked covered with flour and surrounded by smiling children. "Are we now?" 

"Morning, angel," Crowley said as he tried to peel what might have been a crepe out of a pan. The demon hissed and slapped the fragments on a plate that was already covered in the remains of what looked like several earlier attempts.

"You're making breakfast I see." Aziraphale brushed the flour from Crowley’s cheek and gave him a quick kiss.

"We should probably go out, not sure how edible any of these are going to be, angel.”

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Don't be stupid." Crowley shut the burner off and miracled the flour from his clothes. "This was pretty much a disaster."

"It was fun though," Brian said. He had a vast quantity of flour in his hair and what was likely raw eggs all down his shirt. 

"We should probably get home," Wensleydale said around the strawberry currently stuffed in his mouth. 

Aziraphale made sure they were cleaned up before they were on their way. 

"This was unexpected," he said when they were finally alone.

"It was their idea," Crowley said.

"It was a very sweet gesture.” Aziraphale took Crowley's hand. "Maybe next time we could try making them together." The demon shrugged and the angel took that as a strong maybe. 

"Did you want to go out for breakfast?" 

"I rather like the idea of staying in and eating the rest of those strawberries with you," Aziraphale said. Crowley picked up a strawberry and slid it in the angel’s mouth. It was perfect.

"I've been meaning to tell you something," Aziraphale said, after they had finished off the strawberries. 

“Oh?” Crowley leaned against the counter, sunglasses abandoned on the kitchen table.

"Anathema called the other day -- nothing to worry about -- it seems they'll be extending their trip just a bit." She had in fact called a week earlier but Aziraphale had been hesitant to bring it up until now.

"I see." 

"Not too long, only a fortnight past their original return date.”

"I don't mind staying a little longer." 

Aziraphale unclenched his hands. "Oh, good." That was a relief, he’d been expecting some measure of resistance. 

"I was thinking." Crowley shifted his feet. 

"Yes?"

"Maybe we could get a place of our own, here in the village. That way we could be around, for the kids, even after the witch gets back.”

Aziraphale smiled. “What a lovely idea.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against Crowley’s. “I think I'd like that very much."


End file.
